Forgotten Alliances
by Brightelf
Summary: Xamot makes peace with his ex-wife.


This is an old piece of fic written about two years ago. I  
  
originally posted it to Suzanne's fanfic page under the name  
  
Lightfoot. Let me also add that Cadet Demming is my new hero for  
  
characterization!  
  
"Forgotten Alliances"  
  
by Brightelf (Lightfoot)  
  
brightelf@juno.com  
  
copyright 2000  
  
DISCLAIMER---Don't own `em, don't know `em, just borrowing  
  
them `cause I can.  
  
NOTE---Definitely consider this an alternate universe, possibly the  
  
one in Worlds Without End.or another one (or not if you like the  
  
idea.) .either way, I hope you enjoy.  
  
Xamot watched as she fought like a banshee. He grinned as she  
  
whipped two knives out of her leg pockets. She always did have an  
  
affinity for sharp objects. Guns, she had always claimed, were  
  
clumsy, ugly, noisy things. No artistry. He gazed as she did a back  
  
flip, slicing at Buzzer with aplomb. He knew he should go out there  
  
and join in the fighting, but today he wanted to watch...and remember.  
  
Remember when those dark eyes had turned on him, laughing and wild.  
  
When thick waves had fallen down that back in chocolate rivers. In  
  
the background of a battle, blazing guns and explosions of blood,  
  
sweat, and tears, Xamot pinched the bridge of his nose, choking back  
  
tears. She had been glorious and beautiful and she had loved him. For  
  
one brief moment, he had been loved by her; and it had been a  
  
wondrous treasure which he had thrown away with arrogance.  
  
When he looked at her, he didn't see the formidable soldier who  
  
fought like an unstoppable machine. He saw the struggling actress  
  
with the slight Gaelic lilt, angry and fascinated by everything about  
  
him and his kindness to her. He saw a small flat in Dublin with  
  
candles and laughter. A scream broke through his thoughts. A laser  
  
seared through her arm as she yelped in pain.  
  
Almost, almost, he ran towards her, wanting to cradle her and beg  
  
forgiveness for everything. He wanted to so very badly, so what the  
  
bloody hell was stopping him?  
  
His lips compressed in a thin line. Flint ran over to her,  
  
pulling his ex-lover out of the line of fire. He turned and walked  
  
away from his battle post. She was no longer his to protect. His  
  
finger ran over the blade of the knife she had given him. His eyes  
  
blinked at the day's brightness. November should never be blue and  
  
perfect. It should be cold and gray, with a frigid breeze from the  
  
Irish sea. It was never meant to be like this.  
  
****  
  
Lady Jaye winced as she sat down. Her arm was killing  
  
her. /Damnable fool nearly killed me./  
  
She scowled as she sat in front of the vanity mirror, trying to  
  
comb out the knots in her freshly washed hair. /I had less trouble  
  
with it when it was hanging down my back./  
  
Wistfully, she twirled a damp lock around her finger. Sometimes  
  
she missed her long locks, thick and dark. She missed---Lady Jaye  
  
threw down the brush, knocking over a perfume bottle. /Shit!/  
  
Quickly, she tried mopping up the fragrant liquid with her towel,  
  
swallowing the lump back into her throat. There was a slight knock on  
  
the door before Scarlett came walking in. "Jaye, I just---are you  
  
alright?"  
  
Shanna M. O'Hara, codename Scarlett, stared at her friend in  
  
concern. Lady Jaye, for her part, turned quickly to hide her red-  
  
rimmed eyes.  
  
"I'm fine," she mumbled. Wiping at her eyes with her hands, she  
  
faced her fellow Joe. "Just a little tired. What's up?"  
  
Scarlett glanced at her oddly. "These came for you. I brought  
  
them up for you."  
  
Lady Jaye stared at the bouquet in Shan's hands. What the hell?  
  
Cautiously, she took the delicate blossoms. Twelve creamy white  
  
Scotch roses, the tips rosy with pink. She wasn't sure whether to  
  
laugh or cry.  
  
Scarlett grinned at her. "Awwww Jaye! Who knew Flint of all  
  
people was such a romantic?" She snickered, half expecting Jaye to  
  
join in with her. Her snickers drifted off into uncomfortable  
  
laughter as she realized Lady Jaye was staring blankly at the roses  
  
in her hands, drinking in the color and texture, seemingly studying  
  
it for some secret message. Her reply was so quiet, Scarlett had to  
  
strain to hear it. "They're not from Flint."  
  
Scarlett hid her surprise admirably for someone just being  
  
knocked on her ass. "Well, who the hell are they from?"  
  
Lady Jaye ignored her question. "Was there a note with them?"  
  
Her curt question snapped Scarlett to attention and she handed  
  
over the small envelope wordlessly. Jaye took it and looked at her  
  
best friend, dark eyes diamond bright and cold as a winter  
  
sky. "Thanks. Could you leave me alone?"  
  
It was more of a command than a question. Scarlett nodded and  
  
silently walked to the door. As she opened it, she turned around.  
  
Jaye was still holding the envelope and bouquet, her gaze turned  
  
toward the window. "Jaye?"  
  
Lady Jaye snapped her head around, startled. She had forgotten  
  
Scarlett was even in the room. "Yes?"  
  
"Look, ah--," Scarlett wasn't quite sure what to say. "If ah, if  
  
you need to talk..."  
  
A small smile greeted her offer. "Thank you, but I just need to  
  
be alone. Thanks."  
  
Nodding silently, Scarlett quietly closed the door behind her,  
  
one question in her mind. /If Flint didn't send her the roses, who  
  
did?/  
  
Lady Jaye placed the roses on the night stand with trembling  
  
hands. Those same shaking appendages somehow managed to pry open the  
  
envelope. Tears burned her eyes as she read the elegant handwriting.  
  
The words were simple, not his usual charismatic flare; but tonight,  
  
on this night, they were the only words she needed. These were the  
  
words to assure her that it hadn't been her fault and that she hadn't  
  
been a fleeting body to warm a bed.  
  
  
  
Aislinn:  
  
Would that I could tell you this personally, but because of  
  
our alliances, I cannot. Please know that leaving you was hell to me.  
  
Had I not, you would have hated yourself and eventually, me, because  
  
of my loyalties. Coward that I am, I could not have faced that. It  
  
was nothing you did. I never meant to hurt you. I loved you more than  
  
my own life. For the pain I caused you, I hate myself more than you  
  
ever could if it were in you. I can't ask you to leave your  
  
allegiances, so I only beg your forgiveness for misusing you, my  
  
dearest. I see where your heart leads you. Be happy Aislinn. Marrying  
  
you was my greatest gift. Please forgive me on this night.  
  
Always your faithful servant,  
  
Xamot  
  
Aislinn. He had called her Aislinn. The stage name he had loved  
  
and would say over and over again because he loved the musical sound  
  
of it. She had loved him, but looking back, he had been right. It  
  
would have gone horribly wrong. She read the letter again, her tears  
  
staining the plain paper. She did forgive him, had forgiven him a  
  
long time ago. Lady Jaye cried as she had cried on that night,  
  
heartbrokenly and alone. /Do you know where my heart leads? I wish I  
  
could find a way to make it not lead to you. It always does./  
  
Gone for the moment, was the memory of Flint's face. She gazed  
  
out the window and saw another pair of brown eyes and brown hair.  
  
Touching the icy glass, she sobbed out her absolution. "I forgave you  
  
a long time ago Xamot. I almost wish I still didn't love you."  
  
Xamot sat in his comfortable leather chair of the office suite he  
  
shared with his twin. He contemplated the night through the golden  
  
shine of the brandy and the shadows of the dark. He had been foolish  
  
to send those roses and that note, but he wanted...no, he needed  
  
Aislinn to know he had loved her and still loved her. He knew her  
  
real name was not Aislinn, but Aislinn would always be his name for  
  
her. He needed her to know that it hadn't been her fault he was too  
  
much of a bloody coward to cut his ties to his underworld dealings  
  
and Cobra.  
  
He opened the drawer and pulled out a black velvet box. As he  
  
opened it, a small gold ring in the shape of the Celtic Eternal  
  
Circle fell onto the desk. He clutched tightly in his palm. He had  
  
taken it off her finger the night he had left. Now it was all he  
  
would ever had. He bowed his head and let hot tears come. "Forgive me  
  
for loving you." 


End file.
